


Falling Petals

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, At First He Goes To A Shitty School, Beer, Christian Reform School, Christian School, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Erisol Has A Bad Mom, Humanstuck, M/M, My Poor Bab, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Physical Abuse, Reform School, Self-Hatred, Self-Loathing, Sorry If My Story Offends, Wine, drunk people
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 04:17:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11478429
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "It seems that the spite dispenser has stopped working."-----------A story in which Erisol is a prick and Aradia is a rebel that manages to summon a demon.





	Falling Petals

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CurlicueCal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlicueCal/gifts).



> Special thanks to [ Jubylii](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jubylii) who proofread for me.  
> If you would like to proofread one of my stories and give me feedback on my drafts (this means that you get sneak peaks and behind the scenes action, not to forget the honorable mention!!) contact me at: vaguewatermelon@gmail.com

"Your father was right to leave the tramp, Aerosol." The everyday spite dispenser, Cholla, approaches you.

"And the judge was right to send your idiot dad to jail. Seriously, he committed a terrible crime, naming you after a desert plant." You say this absently, sarcastically, knowing exactly who it is.

She slams her hand on the table and you look up to see her fuming red face, you could tell that she was struggling not to scream. She has a reputation to maintain after all, and screaming is not very in rep for her, "H-how the FUCK did you know about that?"

"How did I know about what? The fact that it wasn't your mother who picked your name, or the fact that you're named after a desert plant?"

Her face contorts into one of rage, "You know exactly what I'm talking about you insufferable shit stain."

You decide to adopt a flat tone as to not humor her any longer, "Oh dear, are you angry because your supposedly anger or tear inducing tactics have slapped you in your face with its dick? Or are you angry because you just figured out that the only reason your boyfriend hasn't fucked you or called you yet is because he's busy bangin' your absent friend?"

She leans over the lunch table and slaps you with all the force she can muster. "My boyfriend isn't a cheating asshole like you."

"Mind you, I've never been a cheatin' asshole. I've never even dated anyone."

Cholla opens her mouth then closes it, frustrated because she can't come up with a snarky comeback. It seems that the spite dispenser has stopped working. You shrug at her, closing your textbook and stuffing your pencils and shit back into your backpack, swinging it over your shoulder, then you pick up your textbook. "Well, if you have nothin' else to say, I'll be goin' now."

You turn around and start walking away, internally applauding your victory.

"You gay-ass fuckwit!" Cholla yells at you, ruining the soft, kind girl part of her rep.

You stop in your tracks, struggling to suppress the rage building within you. Your years of practicing pay off as you keep your eyes blank and your poker face intact. Hopefully, your voice doesn't betray you, "I'm sorry, was this directed at me? It seems like you have just confessed to being a gay-ass fuckwit."

Bingo, your voice is one steady bitch, and that makes Cholla one angry bitch. You start walking away from her again, careful to not bump into anyone that's eating. "Don't you DARE walk away from me!" She practically screams it as she throws a fork at you. The fork successfully hits you in the back of the head with its butt.

You stop again taking deep breaths, trying to calm yourself down just a little bit. You should keep walking, but you can't help it, you respond to her fork throwing. You turn around and look at her, sighing. "Oh dear, it seems that your self-indulgent anger fetish as well as your superiority complex has yet to be fed. Your tactics have failed to work on me, so how about you give this person a whirl: Not me."

You hug your textbook to your chest as you turn around and walk away again, ignoring Cholla's screams about how dare you turn your back on her. You have to make it to the science classroom after all. Luckily you don't have to explain yourself to the school counselor because when you get to the lunchroom doors the bell rings. Exiting the cafeteria, you begin to make your way to your science class, and you are halfway there when Cholla's boyfriend, Aber, ambushes you. His face is tinted red as he looks at you, smirking as his soccer team pals pin your hands above your head. You have to stand on your toes, and on your fallen science textbook to reach the height that the dudes demand.

"So Cholla told me that you were spreading rumors about me."

You gift him with a mocking smile, "And when did she call you? While you were busy having her best friend suck your dick on the school stairway?"

You get punched in the stomach for that. You attempt to keel over as a knee-jerk reaction, and you fail. This process repeats itself about five times before Aber decides that the crowd around you guys is big enough for him to say a sassy line that will be ruined by your sharp tongue. He puts two fingers under your jaw and forces your head up, although it's not like you resisted much in the first place.

"Cholla also said that you are gay."

"And Cholla has played you moanin' as you fucked one of her guy friends over on the loudspeaker while you were sick. So who's really the gay one here?"

You earned a knee to the stomach this time. Now, getting kneed in the stomach was not, in fact, the highlight of your day. But that doesn't stop you from being a snide asshole to him. "Oh, I can just feel your gayness through that love tap."

Aber takes your sass a lot better than Cholla. Instead of replying directly, he turns to the rather huge crowd that had gathered around the situation. "So who wants to prove that Erisol here is a faggot?"

No hands are being raised, you smirk at him, it appears that none wants to take your first kiss after all. Not that you blame them, you're an ugly, underweight asshole. Not to mention that you're below the average teenager height because your height growth spurts haven't even come yet, everything else seems to be up to date, it's only your height that hasn't kicked your ass. Aber turns around to see you and your asshole smirk, and that seems to infuriate him, because he turns around and seems to search the crowd.

"I think it's time I confess. I have experimented with being in a relationship with another man, and I discovered through that, that I am a bisexual. Oh and I'm sorry I kept this a secret, I just didn't want to break it to darling Cholla that I cheated on her. However, I think it's time to say goodbye to you Aatos. Because I love Cholla more than I could ever love you." And with that, he turns around again and marches up to you, and he kisses you.

You immediately jerk back, hitting your head on the lockers. However, it doesn't stop there, because he slips a hand down your pants and leans over to bite your ear. It happens in a flash but your face turns bright red as his hand finds your dick and as your own body starts to betray you because of the stimulation. You've tried so, so hard to keep your sexuality a secret, and yet here you are, falling to pieces in front of the whole school. You're just lucky that he got it through stimulation rather than actually being hot.

"S-stop." Your voice comes out as more of a whisper than anything, but you're sure that he can hear you.

However, he just licks a bite mark on your ear and whispers into your ear, "What was that cupcake? I'm sorry but the audience couldn't hear you."

The tears that you've been suppressing subconsciously start forging streams down your cheeks as you attempt to choke out your plea again. "St-top." This time you say it loud enough for the gathering of people to hear. The bell rang long ago and the good students have left, but the majority of the school is bad students anyway. So what would they care if they miss a class, they get drama.

He removes his hand from your pants (thank god), but your plea backfires as you before you can even do anything, because puts his hand in front of your face. And you realize very quickly that this is going to only go downhill because there is your precum on his fingers. If possible, your face turns an even brighter red.

You hate yourself, you hate everything and everyone, and your life is going to end. Aber raises his hand up for everyone to see as he turns away from you. "If I'm not mistaken, the faggot's plea contradicts what he really wants." Yup, your life has imploded, it's gone, you no longer have a life. "Who wants to see the pansy soil his pants?"

You close your eyes to the crowd of misfits cheering on the harassment. You attempt to focus all your efforts on leveling out your breathing, except your only problem is that you can't really stop the instinct reaction to arch your back and push your hips into Aber's palm. He focuses all oral efforts onto your ear, successfully increasing your whorish want.

Aber continues to stroke your dick and rape your ear until you finally can't suppress your moans any longer. At which point he stops, removing his hand and stepping back, looking over your flushed form, hips desperately searching for any sort of friction as they move back and forth in a rhythm.

"So who really thinks that the nancy deserves it? Because I don't." He laughs as the crowd cheers in agreement. "So how about we shove this fairy into a locker and wait for him to cry out for more?" Another agreement cheer.

The soccer team releases your wrists and lets you fall into a heap of pint up sexual frustration and whorish wanton. A girl comes up and opens the locker behind you and you end up getting shoved in with your wrists bound behind your back. Now, you can't stop your hips from rocking back and forth, but you can stop yourself from crying out because you desire sexual release.

You decide to let your sexual charge dissolve, meaning that you just wait it out. You're pretty sure from the sounds outside that they put your backpack in the locker that you are contained in. And they do, if that's surprising enough, they shove your backpack on the empty shelf above you before they run off to class. The bell rang again after all, and none wants to admit that they were a bystander to sexual harassment.

You're pretty sure that the crowd dissipated by the time that you fall asleep in the locker. You're also sure that you fell asleep for a few hours because what wakes you up is the conversation that's happening outside of the locker that you're residing in.

"And you just let him do this?"

"I don't know what to do to stop it Ms. Suniti."

"Well, you better figure it out Cholla." You start paying closer attention at the mention of Cholla. "You can't have your boyfriend going around and molesting others because he thinks that they are gay. Someone kindly emailed me a video of the whole incident, and according to it, you were the one that suggested that poor Erisol is gay."

"W-well... I admit that I had a vague idea and gave those thoughts to Aber but..."

"So you knew what he was going to do then? He's done it before Cholla, and the last couple guys that he did it to jumped off the school roof. We can't have another student doing that."

"I-I... I'm sorry Ms. Suniti, it won't happen again. I promise."

"I'll have to take your word for it then, now where was the locker that the poor boy was shoved into again?"

Footsteps stop right in front of the locker you're residing in, and you can hear the counselor, Ms. Suniti get to work at opening it. When it's finally open your aching legs have hit you full force. But it's not the worst that's happened to you, so you can last.

Ms. Suniti happened to have Aber in tow as well. You cringe away into the locker, but Ms. Suniti steps in front of him and pries you out. It takes you a couple seconds to process the fact that Aber just broke your emotional bottle that you've been stuffing feelings into for years, because you're currently flooded with extreme fear and anxiety which, in turn, is causing your system to be filled with adrenaline.

Your feelings must show on your face because Ms. Suniti looks between you and Aber, as if she was processing your feelings. "Will you take a step back Aber."

Ms. Suniti unties your hands and you immediately bend down and pick up your forgotten textbook, shaking violently. Ms. Suniti hands you your backpack and you swing it over your shoulder, torn between bashing in Aber's shit face and sprinting away. Sprinting away would definitely be the safer decision, but when you look at Aber's smirking face again you can't help it. You're filled with a burning, horrible rage and you give in to instinct.

You walk up to Aber and you hit the side of his head with your textbook as hard as you can. You're lucky this think is a hardback. Aber falls down in shock, and you take the opportunity to keep hitting him, you keep this up until your sitting on his stomach and you slam the textbook onto his face. You feel his nose cave in underneath your textbook. Shit.

Ms. Suniti called in backup, and now she has the gym teacher pulling you off of Aber, and so that you can reflect on your mistakes they kindly point out what you did to him in a very angry tone. And force you to look at his dazed face. You don't really pay attention to their voices though, because they're all clouding up in your head as you're filled with guilt. You start crying, you don't know exactly why, but you clutch your textbook to your chest and you cry.

The next thing you know your English teacher, Mrs. Cressida is driving you home because you passed out in the hall. You look at the shitty, crumbling houses in your neighborhood as she drives quietly.

"I don't blame you for what you did you know."

You blink at her, "What?"

"Just saying that bashing the goddamned bastard's face in is exactly what I would have done as a teen."

You squint at the Mrs. Cressida, "You don't normally use that language."

"Yes, well, this is a special occasion."

She pulls into your driveway and you can see your mom looking through the blinds as you get out of the car.

"See you Erisol."

Mrs. Cressida pulls out and starts the drive to wherever her destination is. You knock on the door weakly, scared of what you're mom will say and what the school's showed her. She opens the door and gestures for you to get the fuck inside. You enter, but you don't sit down or anything, you're just waiting for your mom to chew you out.

"Your school showed me the video. Why didn't you tell me you were a bitch?"

You stare at your shoes as your mom glares at you, "I'm sorry." You make sure that your voice is loud enough for her to hear but quiet enough that she doesn't think that you are challenging her authority.

"In all my years, I never thought I'd raise a pansy."

You don't say anything, opting to keep your head down and your eyes on your shoes instead.

"You know what I say about bitches right?"

"Yes." You make sure to keep the same quiet tone that you had before. Although you can't stop the burning embarrassment and shame from tainting your voice.

She picks up a beer that she left unopened on the counter as she continues speaking. "Bitches aren't going to sleep under my roof, and I won't waste money on them either. So until we get you into a good christian school where they can straighten you out, you're going to sleep, eat and drink outside. You're also going to get dressed outside, I will not allow you to be under my watch doing civilized things while you're a bitch."

She eyes you as you stare at your shoes intently, "So I'll go one step further, and you'll eat and drink like a dog would. Out of a dog bowl, and you'll eat canned dog food, I have tons of it. If you don't like that you can go hungry. I'm going to pull you out of school once I find a nearby christian one. Now get your scrawny ass out there. It's going to rain tonight but you can deal with that, I put a doghouse out there, should be perfect for a gay dog like you."

You suppress the tears that meet your eyes as you make your way outside, careful not to upset anything on the floor. God knows if you tap a wall the whole house will collapse. You look around the yard and immediately notice what she was talking about. There's a small doghouse out there, only big enough to protect your head and half your torso. What great luck you have.

You can already feel the rain by the time your mom brings out what she called dinner. Of course, she watches to see if you'll eat it. Naturally, you don't but you're sure that you will eventually. When she finally decided that you're not going to eat she took the bowl inside and left the one for water outside. How thoughtful of her.

You find that you can't even wedge yourself into the doghouse, so you attempt to sleep out on the grass as the wind picked up and the icy rain really started falling. Needless to say, this kept up all night and you ended up with a sleepless night. By the time the sun starts shining you've gotten no sleep, but at least your backpack was safe and secure in the doghouse. You manage to hit the snooze now that the sun's coming up.

You wake up to more cold rain and wet clothes. You groan and sit up, immediately checking to see if your backpack's still in the doghouse. It's not. Shit. You stand up and walk up to the door, knocking quietly. Your mother cracks it open and looks at you with one burning brown eye, so unlike your eyes. You have what your mother calls "a monster's eyes" because one of your eyes are bright hazel, almost a yellow color, and the other is a deep violet.

You're still thankful for the fact that she got you glasses that one time, you picked out ones with a red and blue theme where the frames look like they were colored the dual colors with a red and blue sharpie. But that was back before her husband left her for another girl. There's no way in hell that she'd spend money like that on you again, and that means taking good care of your glasses, because although the prescription's slightly out of date they are still your ticket to sight.

"What do you want from me now?"

You know that phrase well, it means that your backpack is out underneath the drain pipe because it rained and she needed to pound a lesson into your head with soggy textbooks. Sadly enough though, you can't really do anything to fix the fact that you're only interested in the same sex. You begin your walk to school, fully aware that your pansy ass won't be welcomed on the bus.

So you make your sodden walk to school after picking up your backpack and checking to see if everything's still in it. You attempt to ignore the fact that everyone at school is going to make your life hell, and that's not only because you're wearing the same clothes you wore yesterday. The same semi-decent khaki pants and a ratty dark blue t-shirt with the green and white stripped turtleneck sports jacket. You zip up your jacket all the way, attempting to hide the fact that you're still wearing what you wore yesterday.

When you finally make it to school it's almost time for first period to start and you're soaked to the bone from the torrential rain outside. You make your way to your locker, posture crumpled and loathing for everything multiplied by ten. You manage to keep a total poker face though, which is good. Especially because when you get to your locker it's covered in people's dick drawings, phone numbers with "call me" written underneath, and slurs against your sexuality. You just hope that you won't get any bullshit in class, although you don't doubt that you're going to get a lot of negativity thrown at you.

You make your way to your first class of the day, history. A class where the teacher, Mr. Eadwig, is a truly aggressive homophobe. You enter the classroom and sit down in your seat as the bell rings. Thank god you didn't have to stop at your locker. You pull out your surprisingly dry textbook and put it on your desk, ready for a full-on verbal assault from the teacher.

Surprisingly, you are saved from the assault by someone from the school administration walking in at that moment and taking the desk next to you. They watch Mr. Eadwig carefully, scribbling things down on the piece of paper on the clipboard every now and then. When the bell finally rings you are thankful, the administration person was starting to creep you out because they kept glancing at you.

When you finally get everything in your backpack most everyone in the room has already left. But you don't mind it much because you're normally the last to leave anyway, you have the urgent need to keep your backpack orderly. You stand up, swinging your backpack over your shoulder, beginning the walk out.

"Erisol, would you kindly stay behind? I need to talk to you."

You freeze, turning around slowly to stare at Mr. Eadwig. "Sorry, but I have to get to orchestra." You play the piano.

His face hardens at your comment, "You'll stay behind, I can write you a note."

You shrug and turn around again, "I'd rather not miss orchestra. I have to go."

You make your way to the doorway before a hand meets your bicep. You glance up to see that Mr. Eadwig has decided to have his little "chat" with you at all costs. He pulls you away from the door before he closes and locks it, making sure in the process that there aren't any students left in the room. And surprise, surprise, there aren't any students left, besides you that is. You're the only student here.

"Get your fuckin' hands off me." You yank your arm out of his grasp and turn to the door examining the lock. It's a lock that needs a key, okay, that's something that you can handle. You glance at Mr. Eadwig, who is looking at you expectantly.

"I have the key, so you might as well just sit down and listen to what I have to say."

"And I have a lockpicking kit. So good luck trying to get me to settle down." You pull said lockpicking kit from your backpack and you pull out a few of the picks, quickly getting to work.

"It seems as if you've done this before."

"It seems as if you don't know when to not push a subject that's been damned by god and all his angels." So? What if it's true that you decided to get this from a thrift store behind your mom's back because she keeps locking you in your room when she got drunk or had one of her boyfriends over? There's not much you can do besides pick the lock she put on your window to get to school in the morning, even if it means that your mom will beat you. Education is important.

"Well then. While you're working on that, I figured I should tell you about a very important matter."

"And that would be? The fact that I walked in the rain so I'll get a cold? Or are you just pissed about the fact that my ass made the seat wet as hell?" You've unlocked the door anyway, you're just humoring him now. You put your lockpicks back in their places and slide it back into your backpack.

"Your chosen sexuality."

You stand up, swinging your backpack over your shoulder and genuinely laughing for the first time in a long time. How could a teacher of all people be that stupid? "Look, dude, I don't know if you think you're Jesus in disguise or God trying to give me a message, but I have no control over who I'm attracted to. I didn't wake up one mornin' all like 'Welp, let's be attracted to men'. Sorry to tell you, but I didn't pick my sexuality."

When you look at him you see an angry face, a very angry face. You flinch, hand tightening on the doorknob as memories of your mother run through your mind. "I take it you weren't able to pick that lock then?" His voice is cool, icy.

You don't say anything, your entire existence has made a halt on what happens when adults get angry. Your mother, face burning with anger as she pressed her high heeled foot into your chest, twisting the stiletto heel this way and that. And you, your eyes burning with shame and tears as you pull on her ankle, trying to get her to stop. You just want her to stop.

Needless to say, you just shut down for the rest of school, and Mr. Eadwig made you skip a class. As such he wrote a sincere apology note to the music teacher, Mr. Zimri. Thank god for that, because you managed to get out of a detention with that one, oh, and you shouldn't forget the narrowly missed phone call home. That's a good thing to not have in your life. Your mom would get super pissed if you did get a detention, and you would like to avoid that unfriendly scenario.

You head over to the music room after school so you can at least get some practice in. You stop by almost every single day, so your mom should know why you're late. She didn't say anything about leaving school immediately after all, so at least there's that. She's probably glad that you're not at the house anyway, she hates you right now.

When you enter the music room there is none there, which is good, because you're not going to practice the song that is going to be played in the next assembly. You're going to make the piano your emotional dumpster for today, like you used to do when you didn't bottle up your emotions. And now that you're busy repairing said metaphorical bottle, you're just going to do what you used to do.

You're just thankful that barely anyone passes by the music room on their way home, because if they did you get the feeling that you'd get a music room full of people. That is also a situation you would like to avoid. You set up the piano so it's ready to produce music as you figure out if you're going to practice the assembly song or not once you're done. You decide that it's a good idea to play the song either way, so that's part of the plan.

Sitting down in the pianist's bench, you uncover the keys and begin playing. You close your eyes as you play, you memorized the keys anyway, so it's not like it matters if you look or not. You love to play the piano, because it makes you feel more connected to the world, more in place than you actually are. It kinda makes you feel like you can do more than you actually can in reality.

So you use the piano as a stress reliever as well as an emotional dumpster, and you play, some notes hard and some notes soft, and you find that at the end you're actually happy with how it went. Maybe you should use the piano as your emotional garbage can more often. You turn to your backpack, which is sitting next to you on the bench, and you pull out your music folder. After taking out a couple sheets and spreading them out, you start to play the assembly surprise song.

The assembly surprise is considerably softer than your emotional burnout, you manage to take note of that at least. When you're finished you put your stuff back into the folder, and carefully sliding that back into your backpack, you swing it over your shoulder. You stand up, about to put the piano back into its dormant state when you notice that there are other people in the music room. You freeze, halfway done with re-covering the piano keys as you notice that all of them have their phones out, and they are all pointed at you.

Your face flushes a scarlet red as you turn away and finish "putting away" the piano. The ten people in the room start to talk and tap away on their phones as you make your way to the door, with your head bowed and your posture crumpled. You reach out to open the door as an arm blocks your way. You look at the arm, then at the person connected to the arm. It's Aber, with his gauze packed face and all.

You manage to keep a poker face, but you know that your face drains of all it's color. "What the fuck do you want? You already molested me and proved that I'm nothing but a dirty, asshole faggot. Shouldn't there not be more to my character than that?"

"I had no idea that you liked to play the piano." His voice is quiet, apologetic even. But that doesn't really make you care.

"Well there's a lot of things you don't know about me that is best left unknown." You duck under his arm and make your way out of the school at a full sprint. Once you get outside you start on your way home, constantly glancing behind you for fear that someone from the music room is following you. After what seems like an hour you figure that none is following you.

It takes you until dark to get to your house, but when you do you immediately notice that your mom is out. Score! You'll be able to grab a flashlight and a change of clothes before you work on your homework outside. And that's exactly what you do, you head inside and make a speed run of getting a small flashlight and some clothes. When you're outside again you pull your homework out of your backpack and get to work on it.

By the time you finish your homework it's like ten and your mom still isn't home yet. Not that you mind that though, it's always better when your mom is at the club, well mostly. Sometimes she'll come home drunk and go straight to bed, and others she'll track you down so she can take out her frustrations, and yet there are other nights where she'll track you down so she can vomit next to your feet and complain about her life. You can only wonder what kind of club night it is tonight.

You sigh and pull down the sleeve of your jacket, exposing a line of hairbands on your wrist. Your mom hasn't bothered to get your hair cut for years. So your hair is at your butt, which is a huge difference from the close cut she gave you five years ago when she was drunk. As a result of her drunken haircut, your ginger hair is somewhat patchy, with places that are way longer than others. You pull your hair into a bun and look at your homework again, still holding the flashlight between your teeth. Everything looks right, so none should have anything to complain about on your homework.

You put everything back in your backpack, and you even slip the flashlight into it. You're relieved that your mother hasn't decided to come home yet, because that means you might be able to get some sleep tonight. You shove your backpack on top of the spare clothes you neatly put into the doghouse so they wouldn't get wet if it rained again.

You hear a car pull into the driveway, figuring that it's just your mother coming home with a new one night stand, you lay down and look up at the stars, admiring them. For some reason there are only three things in your life that fill you with a sense of fulfillment, playing the piano, stargazing, and flipping people off.

"Eriiiiissoooollll!!" Your mother's southern drawl comes from the house. She didn't get drunk tonight.

You sit up, deciding to postpone it, you look at the stars again.

"Erisol, I know you're awake! Come on inside!" Her voice is oddly bright, and you blink at it, what happened to suddenly make your mother act like she adores you?

You cringe and stand up, making your way to the door and knocking softly. Your mother's red tinted face appears as she opens the door with gusto. So she's tipsy, you can work with that.

"Come inside, there's a lady that wants to meet you, Mr. Piano prodigy." Oh. So there's someone over, that's why your mom is putting up the nice front.

You come inside, knowing full well that your mom will explode if you don't. The first thing you see is a lady with long blonde hair and green eyes, she's wearing a white button up with a black vest over it, a white pencil skirt, black heels and a white choker. She's the nicest looking person that you've seen in the neighborhood in a long time. Yet, you recognize her, it's almost as if you've seen her somewhere.

"Hello Erisol, I'm Adalet, Adalet Sacnite" Her smile is bright and her voice is silky, but it's the practiced kind of silky, a forced kind of silky.

Oh. Right, the school administration person, that was her. "Hi." Your voice is stiff.

Your mother smiles brightly, "He just loves to be outside. Don't you Erisol."

You shrug, and when you look at Adalet again, her smile has faded.

"Enough of your acting Absinthe Hennessy."

Your mother blinks at the sound of her full name, "Whoever said I was acting?"

"If you're going to be this uncooperative I'll leave and come back in the morning. I am not willing to disclose any information about my sources while you're getting drunk." She uses her free hand that isn't gripping the handle of her silver briefcase to gesture at your mother's brandy bottle.

Your mother frowns at her, anger building behind her eyes. "You can leave if you want, I've never abused or done anything bad to my boy though, I'll have you know that. Everything I've done for him is out of love." Her voice is hard, determined, it seems as if she thinks that she can win the fight. You turn around and open the door, effectively leaving the situation.

You lay down on the grass and listen to the muffled argument that is taking place between the prosecutor lady and your mother. After a while you get tired of the argument, and decide to envelop yourself in the stars instead. You can see Ursa Minor and Ursa Major (the Little Dipper and the Big Dipper), which means that you can see the north star as well.

As you look at the stars you can't help but wonder if you're the only freak of nature out there, or if there are more. You think that you'd like to meet them, that is if there are any others. You would like to think that all the oddballs out there will find you eventually, but you doubt it. Because that's a snowball's chance in hell for you to meet up, even if it's just passing on the street.

You hear footsteps approach you as a car takes off, and surprise, surprise, your mother leans over you with an expression of barely restrained anger. This too, you reflect, has much to do with why you hate yourself.

"Why the fuck did you leave me you slimy maggot?"

"I thought-"

"I thought my ass! You fucking knew that you should stay put before I dismiss you, unreliable shit."

You cringe, and you follow the wordless command that you knew was going to come. You sit up, pulling your legs underneath you so that you're on your knees and you pull up your shirt and jacket so that your bare back with your prominent spine and all the previous beating scars, faces her. You can feel her smirk as she looks down at you, long ginger hair falling over her shoulders.

"That's a good boy, now stay like that and wait while I go get the switch."

So you wait, too afraid to move for fear of a worse punishment for your actions. When she gets back you can feel her aura shift to one of a sort of angry pride.

"I trained this little bitch well, didn't I? Now count the number of lashes, we'll stop when we reach something hundred." She brings the long, thin, branch down on your back.

"O-one."

"Good." So she brings it down again, although this time it doesn't sting as much because you've braced yourself better.

"Two." And so it goes on until you start bleeding, she goes beyond one hundred for that.

You grit your teeth as she brings it down again, creating another long wound on your back. "Three hundred."

"Okay, put down your shirt, cockroach. We're going to try something that one of my co-workers suggested."

You pull down your shirt and look up at her, your eyes blown wide with the pain from your back. She grins at you.

"You're going to lick my shoes, and if you do well enough I'll give you a surprise."

You open your mouth to deny her declaration, but the moment you see her face contorting into one of anger you lean down and press your tongue to the toe of her high heels. She proceeds to kick you in the face with her other foot, laughing as you fall over onto your back. The rocks that are hidden in the lawn's grass press into your wounds. She goes inside the house and you roll onto your side and curl up into a ball, crying.

She comes back out and drives the tip of her high heel into your back. "Get up you slug. I didn't say we were done."

You uncurl yourself and you sit up, looking at her. Although there isn't much you can really do about the tears flowing down your cheeks.

"Here." She shoves a bottle into your hand, and when you look at it, you realize that it's a bottle of beer. "Drink it."

You shake your head, "I-I can't."

She gives you one of the worst looks on the planet, "Why not? I told you to, slut."

"I'm underage."

"Then give me the goddman bottle."

You hand it to her and she pours it on your head, making sure to splash a lot on your clothes as well. When she has emptied the bottle she hits you over the head with it, successfully breaking the glass. She smirks at you as you go crashing face first into the dirt, dazed and hurt. She turns around and goes inside as you close your eyes, trying to force yourself to pass out. But you're unable to achieve such a feat quick enough because someone (a someone that you can't really make out because your glasses fell off your face) comes outside, taking a handful of your hair and turning you over. You groan, assuming that it's your mom who's come back to drive a high heel in your stomach, you attempt to sit up. Instead, you pass out, the movement proving to be too much.

When you come to you're still in the backyard and you can feel the new bruises in full force. You groan and gently push three fingers into your back, gasping when you get hit with a wave of pain you aren't prepared for. You decide it's time to see if the cuts on your back got infected, because your mother may have broken the skin with the switch, but you have the sick feeling that she got drunk and couldn't resist taking a knife to your back as well.

You crawl over to the doghouse, thank god your backpack is still there, pulling out your backpack you fish out a hand mirror that you also got from the thrift store, it's gaudy, but functional. Sitting up, you take off your jacket and your shirt exposing far more than you're comfortable with, but hey what has to be done has to be done. You hold the mirror behind you, angling it so that you can see your back. You look over your shoulder to position it, and that's when you see it. Fuck. Your cuts and shit got infected.

You quickly put the mirror back into your backpack, you stand up and walk over to the back door, knocking quietly.

"What the fuck do you want, worthless trash?"

"I-I um... I need the first aid kit, so if you would please let me b-borrow it..." You look at your shoes.

"Why the fuck would a bitch like you need a first aid kit?"

"M-my back."

Your mom laughs at you, "Let me be the judge of that, cockroach."

You turn around, silently regretting your decision to ask her about it. She whistles, "No."

You curse quietly, you should have known that she'd say no, after all. She'd want to have you be in as much pain as possible. And you don't want to go to the school nurse, Sauna Haurvatat, with her being the nosy motherfucker she is. So instead of trying again for the first aid kit, you take scissors out of your backpack, cutting one of your ruined t-shirts that you brought out up, you just hope that a shirt will work to stop the blood and shit from getting on anything. So after you equip your makeshift bandages you slip on a white tank top that your mom kindly decorated with neon green dicks and the torso's of naked women, did you mention dicks? Because there are lots and lots of dicks.

You glance at your beer soaked jacket, desperately wishing that your jacket had not become a beer rag, and that you had your neon green jacket. The thing looks and feels like it was made out of a thick rug and it makes you look like a glowstick, but that's part of it's charm. You also put on your only other pair of pants, which are a neon orange. Lucky you. You personally like the neon pants because they feel like they were made out of polycotton or something.

Although your pants are too long for you so you have to roll up the cuffs, you do think that you'll grow into them eventually. At least you hope you will. You gingerly slip on your backpack, trying to keep the discomfort at a minimum. You know that you missed the bus, so you just start the walk to school, gritting your teeth and toughing out the pain coming from your back.

When you get to school you just about swear. You forgot that you have P.E first thing today, because it's a A day not a B day. You opt to silently cuss yourself out while you make your way to the gym. When you get there you let out a sigh of relief, it doesn't seem like anyone else is there except for you. However, this turns out to not be the case the moment you enter the boy's locker room.

"Shouldn't you be in the girl's locker room, pansy?"

"How about you come suck my dick? I'll pay you 50 cents, homo!"

You ignore the catcalls and pokes and prods at your sexuality. Instead of giving them the pleasure of getting your reaction, you just make your way to your locker. Where surprise, surprise, someone wrote "fag" on it. You set your jaw and open your locker, doing your best to dispose of your anger in an appropriate manner. You reach in to grab your gym clothes when someone shoves you onto the ground.

You hiss as you land on your back and the throbbing pain explodes.

The guy that pushed you slams your locker shut, "Aw, are you really that fragile, fairy? I guess that the rumors about you fags are true."

The person moves to stand over you and when you open your eyes, which were previously screwed shut as you tried not to let anyone in on how bad your pain really is, you see Emyr, the asshole who claims to be king of the school.

You sniff, "If I'm a delicate flower aren't you one too? I heard you took it up with Aatos."

Emyr drives the heel of his boot into your stomach for that. He keeps it there though, pressed into your stomach.

"What was that?"

"I was just acknowledging the fact that you couldn't keep your dick in your pants around Aatos. Therefore, you are also gay." You gasp in pain as he starts twisting his heel into your stomach.

You expect him to go on for forever, but he stops, taking his foot off your stomach and when you look at him, you see that he's grinning at you.

"How about we see what's under this pansy's shirt? C'mon boys, get him up."

You go into full panic mode, struggling as Emyr's gang pulls you up by your arms and slams your chest into the wall, holding your arms above your head, your feet don't even touch the floor. Emyr approaches you, and you successfully kick him in the stomach. He stumbles back a couple feet.

"Pin his feet too!"

Hands come to your ankles, pinning them to the wall as well. You're in mid-crisis as he pulls up your shirt, frowning at the makeshift bandages. He steps back.

"Get me a pair of scissors."

The next thing you know your makeshift bandages are on the ground and you have a crowd of people staring at your back. Your hyperventilation gets worse. Luckily enough for you, the gym teacher comes in at that moment to investigate why none of the boys are in the gym yet. And he gets a nice view of your back. Great.

"Emyr, get him to the school nurse. Use your crew if you need to."

And so you get carried to the school nurse, one person holding your ankles and the other holding your wrists. You kick and struggle the whole way. When you enter the nurses office she turns around, smiling.

"Emyr! What brings you to my office today?"

"See for yourself." He moves to the side to reveal your panic stricken form, the guy holding your feet brings you in first. They set you on the bed, waiting for Sauna to tell them it's okay to leave.

"Why have you brought Erisol to me?"

"Just look at his back. Anyway, we got to go, see you Sauna." Emyr leaves with the two members of his gang that came with.

"Take off your shirt."

"I'm sorry, I'm gay."

"That wasn't supposed to be an innuendo."

You sigh, defeated as you pull off your dick covered tank top. You turn to face the wall, sitting cross-legged on the bed as your back faces Sauna.

"What in the world? How did you get these?"

"I got mugged." The simple lie should get her to stop asking questions.

"Why didn't your mom take you to the hospital?" The simple lie failed.

"She's on a trip to Hawaii, she's with her boyfriend."

"Has she sent you any postcards?" She presses some antiseptic to your back.

"Not yet."

"Aw, is she busy?" Antiseptic and disinfectant applied, she starts wrapping your back in bandages.

"Yah, it's a business trip."

"That's cool, if she sends you a post card you should be sure to show me!"

"I will." Now that she's finished bandaging up your back you put your tank top back on. You swing your legs over the bed.

"Shoo, shoo, I have duties to take care of."

You stand up and leave the room, and when you get to the gym again the bell rings. Why did she take so long? You shrug it off and grab your backpack, making sure that none can get into your gym locker, you leave the gym. Next up, English.

After you blaze through school with snarky comebacks, not to mention denial of what everyone in the gym room saw, you make your way to the school entrance. You spot the nurse walking towards you as you push your way out the doors, but you don't pay that much mind to it. She's probably just going to the front desk.

But she doesn't go to the front desk, she goes to you. Placing a hand on your shoulder, she turns you around.

"Come with me."

"Why?"

"Because I need to run something past you." She takes your hand and drags you along with her as you open your mouth to protest. She takes you to her office, and closing the door and locking it, she turns towards you, her arms crossed.

"Now, how about you tell me what's actually going on. You don't get those kinds of wounds from a mugging. The bruises, maybe, but not the cuts."

You freeze. OK, so maybe the Sauna is smarter than you take her for. "Knife fight."

"And you came out only with cuts on your back? I doubt it." She taps her foot on the tile floor and looks at you suspiciously. "I really shouldn't be the one asking this, but is something going on at home? Is your mom hurting you?"

"Look, lady. I need to catch the bus, so I need to go."

She sighs at you. "Well, I can't hold you against your will." She opens the door and lets you leave.

The moment you leave you mentally kick yourself. Just how terrible at keeping secrets can you get? Pretty damn terrible it seems, your mom is right. You really are good-for-nothing trash. You get onto the bus, still mentally kicking yourself. You've zeroed in all your efforts to ignoring everyone and mentally kicking yourself for being terrible.

When you get off the bus you've exhausted your insult vocabulary on yourself. You make your way home coming up with new things to call yourself, and when you get to the house you immediately notice that someone new is there. Because your neighbors couldn't have possibly gotten a new car, right?

Ignoring your own questions, you make your way into the back yard and start on your homework. At least you have something else to occupy your time than mentally cursing yourself and stalking the neighbors. You're halfway through your dream catalog for physiology when you hear your mom yelling at someone. This is your time to grab the neon rug.

Sneaking inside, you go up the stairs as fast as you can, and snatching the jacket out of your room you make your way down the stairs. And you're halfway out the door when someone calls out your name.

"Erisol?"

You turn around to see that you're mom's drunk again, and that she was yelling at the T.V. You cringe as she raises her bottle at you, mentally preparing to have her throw it at you.

"C'mere, I want to tell you a story."

You relax a little, ok, so it's one of those nights. It's the one where she gets drunk and emotional because she was trying to drown her woes in wine and beer. You walk over carefully, taking a seat on the beat up couch. She smiles at you, delighted. You it pains you to hate her when she's like this, because it reminds you so, so much of what she was like when you were four. Back when Azazel still loved her, back when she was in love and happy.

"So you remember Azazel, right? Your Pop pop?" She looks at you with big uncertain eyes, and you can feel your heart get crushed. She's like a kid that got lost in the candy store if she drinks the right beer and wine.

"Yes."

"Remember when we used to go dancing at the old bakery? What was it called again?" She snaps her fingers, staring at the ceiling. "Havilah's diner? The one next to the old wedding chapel?"

"Joy With Cakes?" You offer.

Her eyes light up again, "Yes, that's right. Anyway, remember when she used to give you cookies while me and Azazel danced on the performance stage?" She stares at the ceiling, recalling it. "Havilah always gave you her fudge stripped cookies, they were your favorite. Weren't they?" She smiles at you.

"Still are."

"I can still remember when we danced on the stage, sometimes it would be lively, like the swing. And others we would do a slow waltz, it always depended on the song Havilah put on." Her smile softens, eyes glazing over. "I still remember Azazel smiling as we would waltz, his face red from the exercise. He'd always kiss me afterwards, and whenever he did Havilah would cover your eyes."

"I remember."

"What if we went there again? Just you and me?"

"You're drunk, so we're not going anywhere."

She laughs and takes another swig of the wine, "That's my boy, always looking out for his mom."

A moment of silence passed between you two as your mom reminisced. Suddenly cringing your mom downs the rest of the wine, "I still don't know why he left me, did you know that?"

"I don't know why he did either."

Tears start falling from her eyes, "I wish he was still here. He just made me so... so happy. And it's not that you don't too sunshine." She places a hand on your leg and squeezes it. "You do know that, don't you?"

A pang of guilt hits you as you look at her, because no, no you didn't. You had no idea that she still felt that way about you, but there must be a reason why she still let you near her, right? "Yes."

She smiles again, the same delighted smile that you haven't seen in so, so long. "That's good."

You glance at the clock on the wall behind you. 10:25. "Hey, shouldn't you get going to bed? It's getting late."

She glances at the clock and smiles again, "You're right, and that means you should get to bed too, it's a school night. See you in the morning, sweetie." She stands up, fluffy bathrobe following her movements. The moment that she makes it up the stairs you head outside. After all, her sober self banned you from the house.

When the chilly air hits your face you realize something, because that was exactly what you needed. Your mom just helped you relive one of the best times in your life. The time when she was still with Azazel. You lay down on the grass and look up at the moon, now full, it blots out most of the stars with it's reflected light. Today turned out to be a good day after all, or at least as good as days with you in it can get.

You fall asleep a lot quicker than you thought you would, and for once the night terrors left you alone.

You wake up to the birds chirping, this is great, maybe you can get to school early this time. You reach out to grab your backpack when you see a sticky note on the doghouse.

_I got you into that a christian reform school, St. Noriko's. The bus will pick you up at 5. Don't miss it._

You cringe at the sticky note, you're an atheist. You're not going to do well with all the "praise Jesus" slogans pasted everywhere. Ripping the sticky note off of the doghouse you slip on your neon rug-like jacket, pulling everything out of the doghouse you head inside. Time to pack stuff up, you don't even bother to change your clothes.

You take your mom's old roller backpack that she gave to you when you were small and you stuff your clothes into it, plus some trinkets that help you relax, or help remind you of a better time. You also take Azazel's old army duffel and slide your school backpack into it. You're probably going to need it at some point. At least you feel like you will. With everything packed you glance at the clock in the T.V room. 4:57. Just in time.

You sit outside on the steps, because according to the sticky note on your door, the bus will just stop outside the house. You wait for what feels like an hour before you see the bus take the turn into the cul-de-sac that you live in. When the bus gets to you you see the "praise God" slogan painted on the side of the bus and the tinted windows. When the doors open you realize something immediately, there's none on the bus. You wonder vaguely if you are the first stop as you climb into the bus, duffel swung on your shoulder and roller backpack coming up behind you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this sounds like a total OC story right now but more characters from Homestuck will be introduced in chapter two.  
> P.S. CurlicueCal, I know this isn't the fic that I promised, but that one's still in beta, for now enjoy this!


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